


Challenge

by actualite



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Texas Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualite/pseuds/actualite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rangers clubhouse decides to take on the Gay Porn Viagra Boner Challenge the night before Opening Day. Kinsler is forced to join, and Salty steps in to visit his former teammates at just the <s>wrong</s> right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge

"I've got a bottle of blue pills," Napoli announces, sauntering into the clubhouse, "and some gay porn videos. Who's in?"

"Dude, you were serious about that?" Davis says, raising his head and lowering his phone.

Ian turns back to his locker, uncomfortable with where this might be headed. He hurriedly combs through the stuff that's littered inside to try to find his deodorant so that he can put some on and leave.

"Yeah," Napoli says. "And you're not getting out of this. Who else is up for it? Murph?"

"Don't you need a prescription for that?" Elvis asks, taking the bottle of pills from Napoli and examining the label. "You take this from your personal store or what?"

"Nah," Napoli says. "Stole 'em from Mikey. Don't give him a hard time. ED happens to everyone, it's totally normal at his age."

Mike is on the phone with someone and doesn't even acknowledge this jab. Ian reaches underneath his shirt to smear his deodorant on and then grabs his shoes and duffel bag.

Murph is also packing up, but he smiles. "What is this about?"

"It's the gay porn Viagra boner challenge," Davis says authoritatively, standing up. "Here, Naps, let me see which videos you got."

"Sounds like my kind of thing," Murph says dryly.

"You'd be good at it," Napoli says. "All you have to do is take one of these--"

"I don't want to know," Murph says, laughing and waving a hand as he turns back to his locker to finish packing up. "You kids have fun with that. Just don't come in tomorrow with a stiffy that won't go down."

"Dutch knows what that's like, don't you?" Davis says, smirking at Derek Holland, who immediately turns red.

"I farted on your food earlier," he says hopefully, but this doesn't garner much response, as farting on people's food is just about the only way Holland can think of to mess with anybody and he's done it about a million times.

"Hey, CJ! He's got _Bareback Mountain_!" Davis calls across the room to CJ's locker.

CJ, who was talking to O'Day, looks around, his hand still up in the air mid-gesture.

"What the fuck is that?" O'Day says. "Sounds like porn."

"Oh," CJ says. "Are you guys doing that Viagra boner challenge?"

"Yeah," Napoli says, swiping the bottle of pills back from Elvis. "You dudes in?"

"I'm dating a model," CJ says unnecessarily, a fact that he never tires of reiterating. He walks across the room and looks over Davis' shoulder at the DVD box.

"I'm not watching gay porn. That's faggy and I'm not a fag," Holland says.

"How do we know unless you prove it?" Davis says, swinging his arm around Holland's shoulders and pulling him in close. "I've seen the way you watch Cruzie in the shower."

Elvis laughs. "It's true, man, but you know, he has a grea' body, it's cool, it's natural."

"Shut up," Holland says, turning to Cruz, who is eating a sub sandwich and reading something on his phone. "You know that's not true, right?"

"Don' worry about it, man," Cruz says absently without even looking up. "I'm used to it, it comes with having the big muscles. Men, women, everybody, they all like to look."

"I'm not worried about it!" Holland says, looking frustrated and shrugging Davis off. "I'm not a rookie anymore, you guys should treat me with a little more respect."

"Respect has gotta be earned, yo," Elvis says, his smile widening. "Look at me, I'm young but everybody know they can't fuck wi' me, you know? Even Ian here, he used to think I was nothing, nobody, and now he listen to what I gotta say."

Ian had just zipped his duffel bag up and was almost congratulating himself on having escaped, but now he feels a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"In your dreams," he says, shouldering his bag. "I'll see you guys later. Have fun with your gay porn."

"Aw, what's the hurry, Kins? Don't you want to join us?" Napoli says, smirking.

Ian immediately feels that familiar, uncomfortable sensation of his skin prickling underneath his shirt. He's going to start sweating and it's all because of that look in Napoli's eyes. Ian wishes he knew how Napoli figured it out. Maybe he heard from someone Ian had been in low A with, before he'd learned to control himself. Or maybe Napoli just had that sixth sense, could tell from the way Ian walked, or the way Ian talked -- or didn't talk -- about women, or the way he averted his eyes almost involuntarily sometimes in the clubhouse and the weight room. Ian had gone over and over all of his interactions with Napoli since Napoli joined the team, but he couldn't figure out what gave him away. He had to keep reassuring himself that Napoli had no proof that Ian was gay, but every so often Napoli would make a comment or look at Ian with triumph in his face, a warning that at any minute he could out him and change Ian's life forever.

"Not really," Ian says, pulling his hat down lower over his eyes. He knows it makes him look suspicious and nervous but he can't help it. Nothing makes him uncomfortable like the threat of someone finding out.

"What's the matter? You scared?" Holland says, trying too hard as usual.

"Okay, new rule," Napoli says. "Loser has to jerk off in front of everybody."

"I'm out of here," Mike says, picking up his keys and pocketing his phone. "Enjoy your little game. I want nothing to do with it." He walks out and no one taunts him for not wanting to participate.

"Yeah, enjoy yourselves," Ian echoes, following in Mike's footsteps. But apparently he doesn't have the presence to pull it off, because Napoli reaches an arm out to lean against the wall, right in front of Kinsler.

"Not so fast," Napoli says. "What's your hurry? As gay as this clubhouse is, it won't take long for someone to pitch a tent. You'll be out of here in half an hour."

Ian feels his heart rate speed up. Napoli's eyes are small and mean in his fat little face, and Ian wants nothing more than to shove him out of the way.

"Come on, Ian," Elvis says in that lilting, plaintive way he has. "We have to know, right?"

It's all a joke, a game, something that will make everyone laugh and pass the time, Ian knows. But being gay is no joke for Ian and he hates that he can never laugh about this like everyone else can.

"I'm only doing it if we watch this one," Davis says, holding up a DVD that features a very blond boy who looks very underage on the cover. "Too bad Taylor isn't here, I know he's wanted to watch this one for a long time now. You guys in?" he asks, turning to CJ and O'Day.

"No, I have dinner plans," CJ says.

"Don't we all?" Ian says coldly.

"Not with the lovely Ms. Piek," Napoli says. "Okay, CJ, you're excused. O'Day?"

"Sure, why the hell not," O'Day says, because he's always up for anything and can keep his cool no matter what. Ian is insanely jealous of this innate talent.

"Cruzie? Or should I say Nelly?" Napoli says.

"You call me Nelly again in that voice and I will break your face," Nelly says, sounding bored.

"Alright, alright."

"Julio! You coming, man?" Elvis calls over to Julio, who is talking to Alexi Ogando.

"What? No," Julio says. "I need to get home. I have things to take care of."

"You are the gayest one, then," Elvis says, but Julio doesn't notice.

Murph zips up his jacket. "Well, as much as I'd love to stick around for the results, I've gotta get home."

"I have to get home too," Ian says, trying not to sound as desperate as he feels.

"Okay," Napoli says, finally dropping his arm and stepping back.

Ian feels a rush of relief and pushes past Napoli, making for the door.

"Oh," Napoli calls after him. "I forgot to tell you, Jason Botts wanted me to say hi to you for him."

Ian stops in his tracks and feels his face get hot. There's a pounding sound in his ears. He turns around.

"When did you talk to Jason?"

"Oh, it was a couple weeks ago."

"What did he say to you?" Ian says, hearing the panic in his own voice but unable to stop it. No one else seems to notice, but Napoli is eyeing him knowingly, and Ian can't stand it.

"Just told me some stories about coming up with you in the minors. The usual stuff." Napoli turns to the others. "Okay, everybody, get some sweatpants on and meet me in the lounge."

"Sweatpants? Seriously?" Holland says. "C'mon, CJ, you have to come, too, aren't you, like, vegetarian or something?"

"No, and vegetarian is not a synonym for gay."

"What the fuck's a symonym?"

"Stop talking. Anyone who thinks Creed is a good band has no right to speak."

"Will you just let that go already?"

Ian can barely hear the conversations going on around him, his mind tripping over all the things Jason could have said.

He and Jason had not parted on great terms and now they hardly ever spoke to each other. Jason had been angry with Ian for many reasons -- for being better at baseball, for not letting Jason fuck him anymore, for getting married before Jason did. Jason had a bad temper but Ian hadn't cared about that when he was young and wanted to get laid. They'd been roommates in the minors and then Ian got used to being able to climb into Jason's bed and get a good fuck whenever he wanted. Then Jason had started getting weird about it, jealous of every night Ian spent away from him, and getting a little too rough. And then Ian had started to get really serious about his career, realizing how much he was putting his future in jeopardy doing what he was doing, and he'd broken it off, getting engaged and distancing himself from Jason, which hadn't gone over well at all. But Ian never thought that Jason would actually tell.

Josh comes in from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, and goes straight to his locker.

"We're doing the gay porn boner challenge," Holland tells him. "You wanna join?"

"The what?" Josh says, reaching up to get something off the top shelf.

"The gay porn boner challenge! It's where you take Viagra and watch gay porn and whoever gets hard first is gay."

Josh turns around at that and looks over at Ian.

He's the only one in the clubhouse -- well, the only one besides Napoli, now -- who knows about Ian, because of one night when Josh had knocked on Ian's hotel room door and asked Ian to pray with him because he was feeling the pull and couldn't be alone. They'd ended up talking, and Josh had revealed many things about his addiction and his daily struggle to keep clean. Deep in the throes of closeted self-loathing and eager to connect with his new teammate whose career, Ian knew, would be prodigious, Ian had confided his own secret, his own struggles with his shame and desires. Josh had prayed for both of them and told Ian that he was doing the right thing by being faithful to his wife and denying himself, and that their friendship would be a deep one because they both knew what it was to wrestle with demons, to count every day without succumbing to them a victory, and most of all to be completely humbled by the experience of overcoming their basest impulses. It was seductive, the way Josh spoke, the stories he told, the triumph of his will, the enormity of his gift, and Ian was enthralled.

He trusts Josh to never tell anyone, but sometimes, just like now, Ian regrets his openness that night. He wishes no one knew, least of all someone who makes a big exhibition of facing his fears and owning up to his weaknesses. There is a difference between what Josh is battling and what Ian is battling: Josh's vices are the kind that many people secretly admire him for, whereas Ian's is the stuff of their deepest loathing. For this reason Ian can never really accept what Josh is offering as genuine, and the more he realizes the truth of this the more alone he feels with it.

"You joining them?" Josh says, and there's such a pedantic, disappointed, preachy tone to his words.

Ian feels trapped between Napoli's cruel smirking and Josh's conspicuous morality. He knows that what Josh wants in him is a disciple; it always has been. What Napoli wants from Ian is far more destructive, but both are a burden that is becoming too heavy to bear and Ian doesn't know what to do.

He stands there, watching the guys change into sweatpants, laughing and insulting each other, and feels excluded from all of it, like he's on the outside looking in. No matter how long he's been here, no matter how well he's established his worth to this team both on and off the field, being gay and having to keep it a secret means he'll always feel this way, and any time he tries to forget it, someone like Napoli is going to show up and scare him just enough to bring him right back to this place.

Ian is suddenly filled with the conviction that he needs to take charge of this situation once and for all.

"Yeah," he says to Josh. "I'll join them, what the hell. And three hours later when we're all still hanging limp and bored out of our minds watching some twink get his ass drilled I'll be the first one to say I knew it would be a huge fucking waste of time."

"Ian," Josh says, like a warning, and Ian knows that if they were alone Josh would say something aphoristic about avoiding temptation.

"I think I can handle it," Ian hisses under his breath, annoyed.

"Okay," Josh says.

Out of the corner of his eye Ian sees Napoli watching this. Josh turns to him and says, "You got room for one more?"

"Oh, are you the reason Kins is gonna join us after all?"

"Gotta keep you boys in line," Josh says with a shrug and an easy smile.

Ian goes to his locker to change back into sweatpants, throwing his duffel down angrily. He's pretty sure he'll be able to get through watching gay porn without getting hard -- he's had a lot of practice at controlling himself, and this kind of porn isn't really his thing anyway -- but having to sit through all of the jokes, macho posturing, and dramatic disgust is going to be difficult, and even worse will be having to think of homophobic things to contribute to the conversation. It's not as if he doesn't have practice but this is going to be a sustained hour or more of gay talk that Ian wants no part of. The only way he'll get through it is by thinking of it as a necessary evil, the kind of price he has to pay for living the life he does.

There's a commotion at the clubhouse doorway and Ian doesn't look around at first, too consumed with anger, but then he hears Murph's voice.

"Salty! Hey, I was hoping you'd stop by. Didn't expect to see you 'til tomorrow."

Ian freezes.

He hadn't expected to have to see Salty until tomorrow, either, and now he's here, having shown up at just about the worst possible time.

Ian's had a thing for Salty for a while, now, the only teammate since Jason for whom that's been the case. Ian didn't want to give it a name, but it was like nothing he'd ever dealt with before. He fantasized about Salty constantly, had wet dreams about him like he was a teenager. But it went way further than that. Ian had begun to feel strange impulses around Salty that had little to do with his libido. When Salty had a cut on his lip Ian obsessed about licking it. When he saw Salty standing by himself, Ian wanted nothing more than to go up and lean his cheek against Salty's broad back and wrap his arms around Salty's giant torso. He wanted to feel Salty's weight on him, wanted to bury his hands in Salty's insanely curly hair, wanted to touch Salty's dimple, to trace over all of Salty's tattoos. He watched Salty eat, watched him shave, watched him cut his fingernails in front of his locker, watched him sip a smoothie while sitting in his swivel chair, watched every mundane task Salty performed whenever he could and none of it was enough. He even furtively watched Salty sleep on the plane during flights, feeling like a creep but unable to resist the chance of observing him and knowing that he wouldn't be caught. It had gotten to the point where Ian almost couldn't handle himself around Salty, and he had to purposely avoid and ignore him.

It had been a huge relief when Salty was sent down and then traded, or so Ian thought at first. There was a void in the clubhouse after Salty left, but apparently Ian was the only one who felt it. Which was stupid, because when Salty'd been there Ian had actively tried to avoid him, scared he'd reveal too much. A lot of the younger guys followed Ian's lead and as a result Salty spent most of his time by himself, though he and Murph were pretty good friends. Salty didn't appear to mind outwardly, but he seemed to lose all his confidence on the field and withdrew into himself, becoming more and more of a loner. Ian hated himself for his part in making Salty something of an outcast on the team, but his fear of exposure outweighed that, and Salty had left the team unmourned by anyone else.

And now Salty was back for Opening Day, starting catcher for the Red Sox, a big deal again, maybe on the brink of a breakout season, and maybe he'd be out of Ian's reach forever.

"Yeah," Salty said. "We had a workout in Houston this morning and just got in a little while ago. Didn't have anything better to do so I thought I'd come see you guys."

Ian hears every word, that smooth, easy cadence of Salty's voice so familiar. He's afraid to turn around, afraid of what might be showing on his own face, but he wants to see Salty so badly.

"Salty!" Elvis says, and Ian can hear the sound of their hands clasping. He pictures the way Salty is probably hugging everybody, CJ, Davis, Holland, O'Day, Cruz, Darren, Josh, overly affectionate and obliviously warm, and the lukewarm way he's probably being received by those guys. Ian wants Salty to hug him, too, but he can't even bring himself to turn around.

"Kins," Salty says, and Ian nearly jumps, because the voice is right behind him, too close.

He turns around and Salty is looming in front of him, bigger even than Ian remembered, smiling. He's thinner and his hair is cropped close and short, but he looks good, so good that Ian feels a little breathless. Ian has spent so much time imagining what it would be like to see Salty again but there's nothing like the real thing. The last time Ian saw Salty he was tired and worn down, worried about his injury, his career, his future, and now he looks relaxed, confident, again the sunny boy he'd been when he first came to Texas in 2007. It hurts Ian a little, knowing that it took Salty leaving Texas to get that back, but mostly he's just glad to see that happiness in him again.

"Hey, Salty," he says. It comes out a little hoarse. Ian clears his throat.

"Is Mikey around?" Salty asks, eyes darting over to Mike's locker.

"No, he left already."

"Oh," Salty says.

They stare at each other for a second. Ian wants to look away but he can't, really, and Salty is just smiling down at him inanely.

"Hey, Salty," Napoli says, coming up next to them.

"Oh, hi," Salty says, crossing his arms and standing up a little straighter to look down at Napoli. "You've got my job now, huh?"

Ian laughs involuntarily.

"Yeah. Hopefully I'll hold onto it better than you did," Napoli says.

"It's okay, I don't want it back. I'm happy where I am now," Salty says serenely.

"So, are you joining us?" Napoli says.

Ian feels a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"Where are you going?" Salty asks innocently.

He probably imagines they're going out for dinner. Ian can think of few things worse than standing next to Salty and watching gay porn, given the circumstances.

"No," Ian says. "He doesn't get to come. He's not even on the team anymore."

Salty looks at Ian with so much hurt in his eyes that Ian feels guilty. _You don't know what you're getting into,_ Ian wants to shout at Salty. _This will end badly. And you'll know why I've always been weird to you and you'll never want to see me again._

Then Ian hears CJ's voice ring out loudly. "Wow, you got _Dawson's 20 Load Weekend_? That's a classic. I've read about it. Maybe I will stay."

The tips of Ian's ears feel like they're burning. He watches as Salty looks over at the others and tries to deduce what's happening.

"We're all popping Viagra and watching some gay porn to see who gets hard first," Napoli informs Salty. "You should come."

"Oh," Salty says, blinking. "Uh. I dunno, I should probably turn in early tonight--"

"Don't fuckin' worry," Napoli says, slapping Salty on the back. "If you're there Kins will pitch a tent in no time. You're just his type."

"Er," Salty says, as Ian imagines a long, slow death for Napoli, "what exactly is the point of this?"

"Fine, don't come," Napoli says, shrugging and turning away.

Ian doesn't know where to look. It's true; if Salty is there Ian will probably embarrass himself. But he hates that Napoli knows this, that anyone knows it, and now Salty knows it, too, though he'll probably think Napoli was joking. Salty is kind of endearingly obtuse that way.

"Hey, Salty, you wanna come over for dinner?" Murph calls. "I just phoned Andrea. You should come and see the baby."

"Uh," Salty says. He's looking at Ian, his eyes bright and penetrating. Or maybe that's just Ian's imagination. He always feels like Salty is seeing into his soul.

"You should go," Ian says slowly. He wants Salty to leave so that he won't be a part of this sordid joke Napoli is playing on Ian, so that Ian won't think of Salty from now on when he remembers how ashamed he is to be what he is and the lengths to which he goes to hide it from his teammates, the people he's closest to in all the world.

But then there's that small, defiant, irrational part of him that only wants Salty, wants him to be always close by no matter what, and when Ian raises his eyes to look back up at Salty, everything else fades away but that.

"Can I take a rain check?" Ian hears Salty say to Murph, his voice coming to Ian as if from a great distance.

"You're really going to stay and do this?" Murph says. "My wife's a better cook than _that_."

"I know. Andrea's a great cook," Salty says hurriedly. "But..." his voice trails off.

Murph's eyes dart back and forth between Salty and Ian. "Maybe Saturday night," he says.

"That'd be great," Salty says, smiling beatifically.

"Okay. Don't have too much fun in there," Murph says as he walks out.

Ian turns around and fiddles with the drawstring on his pants. He's really going to do this, he's going to watch gay porn in front of his teammates, in front of _Salty_ , and try to think of derogatory names he can call the guys on the screen even though they're doing the things he's wanted Salty to do to him.

Feeling like he's going to start hyperventilating, he bunches his hands into fists for a moment and then reaches for his water bottle.

"You okay?" Salty says.

Ian hadn't realized Salty was still standing there.

"Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" he says tersely, and then pushes past Salty to go to the lounge. He doesn't look back to see if Salty follows.

By the time he gets there the other guys have already started a DVD. Napoli tosses the pill bottle at Ian and Ian takes one, swallowing it down dry, and then takes his place in the row of guys standing in front of the TV. Josh and Cruz are sitting in the massage chairs with their knees wide open, obviously not too worried about any effects the porn might have on them, but Davis, Holland, Elvis and CJ are standing up very straight with their feet apart on the ground and their arms by their sides, as if they are going to be concentrating very hard. Napoli and O'Day are standing a little to the side, and O'Day is eating from a bag of popcorn.

Salty appears in the doorway.

"This where the party is?" he says. He doesn't have sweatpants, obviously, and instead is wearing jeans and a camo t-shirt with the Red Sox logo on it.

"The party will be in someone's pants," Davis says.

"Give him a pill, Kins," Napoli orders.

Ian tosses the bottle at Salty, who catches it and pops it open. The bottle looks tiny in his enormous hands, and Ian stares as he shakes one out and puts it in his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows it. Ian tells himself to get a grip and forces his eyes to the screen, where the two protagonists are just getting their clothes off.

"Wow," Holland says. "That guy's dick is bigger than any I've ever seen. And I've watched a lot of porn."

"Not as big as mine," Davis says confidently.

"Or mine," Cruz says, cracking his left knuckles one-handedly, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

"Well, there you go, proof that I don't look at you in the shower," Holland says.

Salty walks by Ian, resting one hand heavily on Ian's shoulder for a moment, and Ian feels his face flush. He tries to ignore Salty, who goes right behind Ian and stands there. Ian is too aware of how close Salty is. Maybe he's just imagining it, but he thinks he can feel the heat radiating from Salty's body, even hear him breathe in and out. The hair on the back of Ian's neck prickles.

"One of my brother's best friends is a fluffer in L.A.," CJ says.

"I've probably banged her," Napoli says.

"He's a dude," CJ says flatly.

"Someone told me most of the guys who star in gay porn aren't even really gay," O'Day says through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Well that's obvious," Holland says. "I mean that's like the definition of a porn star, someone who would do anything for money, even pretend they're gay."

"That's prostitution, idiot, not acting," CJ says.

"Spoken like a true Californian," Davis says as he gives himself a feel. "Nope, nothing yet."

"What's gay, then?" Ian says. "I'd say gay is when you let another dude drill you in the ass. End of story."

"So is the guy doin' the drilling not gay then?" Salty asks.

Everyone turns to Ian, waiting for him to answer, the porn soundtrack filling the silence.

"How the fuck should I know?" Ian says angrily.

"When I think gay," O'Day says, "I think of two dudes with lap dogs wearing scarves and driving around in a Bentley convertible."

"Hey, that wouldn't be a bad life," Davis says.

"I never said it would be," O'Day counters.

"I think of AIDS," Napoli says.

"Not cool," CJ says, giving Napoli an impatient glance. "I'm so bummed by some of the stuff you say."

"These dudes are raw dogging it," Holland announces. "That makes me think of AIDS, too."

"What is raw dogging?" Elvis asks, turning his head away from the screen. The guy on his back in the movie looks like he's in pain, his eyes closed and his mouth set in a grimace.

"Bareback. No condom," Josh says.

"I already explained that to you like five times," Holland says to Elvis.

"I don't believe anything you tell me, man," Elvis says. "Josh, him I believe. He would never lie to me, you know? He's like, a man of God or something. You are a man who likes Creed."

"Good one," CJ says, high-fiving Elvis.

"Everyone knows it's way better without a condom, though," O'Day says. "It's natural that people would want to see that in their porn."

"Oooh," Davis says, wincing at the screen as one of the guys shoots his load all over the other one's face.

"Is it over?" Elvis says.

"No, they're just getting started," Davis says.

CJ is still watching intently, looking very mature, like he's studying a documentary. "Yeah, porn isn't about realism. It's fantasy. I don't see why people would criticize filmmakers for showing that when they're okay with this kind of ridiculous narrative premise. And most porn studios are pretty strict about their actors being clean and getting tested regularly."

"Blah blah blah. I didn't hear a word you just said," Napoli says.

"If they want to be realistic they should show what is going to come out of the guy's ass after he is finished getting fucked," Cruz says.

"Maybe they will," Elvis says, sounding hopeful.

"Sick. No one wants to see that," Holland says.

"You'd be surprised," Josh says.

"Ew, what the hell does that mean?" Davis says, laughing.

Ian tries to focus on the ridiculous conversation they're having but he can't, not when Salty is so close behind him still. Ian feels like he's hyper-aware of everything, the slightest movement Salty makes causing Ian's skin to tingle. The action happening on the TV barely even registers; it's Salty's presence behind him that is making his breathing more rapid than it should be. He can feel his dick stirring and it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand. Ian doesn't know how to get away from Salty without drawing attention to it, but he's close to crying, his eyes burning from imagining how humiliating this will be.

Suddenly he feels Salty's hand on his lower back, and he twitches, trying to stop himself from twisting out of Salty's reach.

"Shh," Salty intones, very quietly. Ian looks around to see if anybody is watching them, but their eyes are mostly glued to the screen and Elvis is making gagging noises and saying _Oh, my God,_ over and over while laughing.

Salty's palm is warm through Ian's shirt, and he just rests his hand there for a moment before taking it away again.

And then Salty steps back. "Whoa," he says. "Guys, I'm feelin' it."

Everyone's heads swivel around.

"What? No way," Holland says.

"You?!" Elvis says incredulously.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He can get hard for anything," Napoli says. "His wife is a perfect example."

"Watch your mouth," Salty says, but there is no ire in it.

Everyone's gaze is glued to Salty's crotch, and sure enough, his jeans, which are a little baggy, are tented. He adjusts himself a little, his mouth quirking into a little half grimace for a second.

"That's not fair, Salty's not gay. He doesn't count. Next person who gets hard is the queerest," Holland says.

Josh, Cruz, Davis and O'Day look mesmerized.

Elvis gingerly pats Salty on the back. "Good job, man."

CJ has already gone back to watching the screen studiously.

"We did say whoever got hard first has to jack off in front of everyone, right?" Napoli asks. He looks annoyed.

Ian is speechless. He doesn't know what to do or say. Salty is smiling placidly, not a trace of self-consciousness in his demeanor as he reaches down and begins unbuckling his belt.

Davis whistles.

"Anyone bring some lube?" Salty says.

Napoli digs a tube out of his pocket and tosses it at Salty.

"Aughh, no, I don't need to see this," Elvis says, laughing.

"C'mon, everyone knows you and Julio come in here to jack off together," Davis says.

"Tha's differen'. We are watching the good porn," Elvis says blithely.

Holland seems transfixed, his eyes following Salty's hands as he undoes his fly and pulls his jeans down. His dick pokes through the slit in his boxers and Ian feels like he's going to pass out.

"You ain't got nothing to be ashamed of there," Josh says.

"Not quite porn star material, though," Holland observes.

Salty waves it in the air at Josh, who jerks his head away. "Does it look like yours? Everyone says we look alike," Salty says.

"Get that out of my face," Josh says, but he's smiling.

Salty flips the cap open on the lube and squirts some into his palm, dropping the tube on the ground when he's done.

"Maybe we should all pull our dicks out and compare," Holland says.

"Because that wouldn't be gay at all," CJ says sarcastically, still watching the movie.

Elvis laughs. "Is a good thing you aren't on this team anymore, Salty, otherwise you wouldn't be safe to take a shower alone, eh?"

"Yeah, all these fags would be dropping the soap just for you," Napoli says sourly. He looks angry, as if he didn't expect things to go this way, with Salty obligingly taking hold of himself and the others looking on in curiosity and at most only mild disgust.

Ian's had enough. He's furious, mad at everyone and everything, but mostly at Napoli, for his stupid plot to humiliate Ian, his redneck homophobia, and maybe especially for being the reason that the first time Ian gets a good look at Salty's dick is with a bunch of teammates marveling at how big it is. He goes over to the corner, where an old bat is leaning against the wall, and picks it up.

"This is ridiculous," he says, and he brings up the bat and swings it at the TV as hard as he can, knocking it off the stand. The guys all duck, bringing their arms up to shield their faces as the screen cracks and the cables snap, electricity sparking behind it.

"What the fuck, Ian?" Davis says, rattled.

"Hey!" CJ says at the same time. "I was watching that."

Elvis is silent, for once, and he and Holland are staring at Ian with wide eyes.

"Everyone get the fuck out," Ian shouts. "I've had enough. Salty, put it away, for fuck's sake. We're grown men. I can't believe Mike wasted our time with this. I have to get home. We have a job to do tomorrow."

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Napoli says. "Or is that the problem? There's nothing in your ass and you wish there was, don't you?" He sounds triumphant, almost gleeful. "You're such a sad little faggot, Kinsler--"

Ian feels his rage boil over and he rushes at Napoli, throwing a punch at his face. Napoli isn't fast enough to dodge it and he reels back for a second with the impact, but regains his footing and then charges at Ian, head down, knocking into Ian's middle and throwing him back onto the floor.

Ian's head hits the ground with a thump that makes his vision go dark for a moment, but he shields his face reflexively just in time as Napoli starts trying to beat at Ian's face before someone pulls him off of Ian.

Ian sits up, his vision clearing a little, and he sees Salty holding Napoli against the wall, his forearm across Napoli's collarbone and pinning him in place.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Napoli shouts, trying to push Salty off him. "You saw him punch me for no reason."

Josh helps Ian up but Ian shrugs him off, glaring at Napoli. "Fuck you and your stupid bullshit," he shouts, going at Napoli again, but Josh and Davis are holding him back. "I'm fucking sick of it. This is my clubhouse. You don't just come in here and start threatening me and thinking of these fucking sick ways to try and embarrass me in front of my teammates."

"Ian, what the fuck are you talking about?" O'Day says.

"He's a fag, that's what he's talking about," Napoli says, but then Salty grips the front of Napoli's shirt in two fists and jerks him forward, slamming him back against the wall so his head hits it hard.

"Stop it," he says simply.

"Is that what all this was about?" CJ says to Napoli. "Man, I try to give you the benefit of the doubt but this is kind of pathetic."

"Ask your friend Jason!" Napoli shouts. "He told me all about it."

"Jason's behind this? Okay, it all makes sense," CJ says. "Everyone, as you were."

"He said--" Napoli begins.

"Stop talking, man, it's embarrassing to us," Cruz says, slapping Ian once on the back and heading for the door. "I need to be leaving. See you guys tomorrow. Get a good rest, eh?"

"Yeah, I'm glad you broke the TV, I was starting to feel a little stir of something myself," O'Day says. "I just got married, I can't be questioning my sexuality right now."

"Admit it," Davis says, "I've had you questioning your sexuality ever since you got here."

"It's true," O'Day says, sighing heavily.

"Why does everyone think it's funny to joke about being gay?" Holland whines.

"Because it's funnier than your Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation, right?" Elvis says.

CJ laughs. "So true."

"What? Everyone loves my Ahnold voice," Holland says sullenly.

Salty lets Napoli go and Napoli shoves him away, but Salty just absorbs the impact and sways backward a little.

"You still doing that Schwarzenegger voice, Dutch?" Salty says, shaking his head.

"I should hand you your ass on a plate," Napoli says, glowering at Salty.

"Just get the fuck out of my face," Ian says hatefully.

"You both better watch your back," Napoli says and storms out the door.

"He won't need to. Seems like you're watching it for him, a little too close, you know what I'm saying?" CJ calls after him. He turns back to Salty. "Usually the most homophobic ones are the ones who are gay," he explains helpfully.

"I think I've heard that before," Salty says.

Ian can't tell if he's being serious or not but it does calm him down a little, hearing that some other teammates have his back. He wonders if CJ knows about him and Jason. He probably does, and realizing that makes Ian feel even more grateful.

"This was like, really exciting," Elvis says. "My teammates, I learn so much from them, you know? Today I learned a lot of stuff, a lot of things."

"Shut up," Holland says grumpily. "I didn't learn anything except gay porn is gross. And I already knew that."

CJ sees another opportunity to enforce an old point. "You also learned that Creed is not a great band."

"Alright," Holland says, groaning, "you've told me that like a million times, just stop already."

"I'm with CJ, I don't feel like it's sinking in," Davis says.

"Things sink into me," Elvis says.

"That's what she said," Holland says.

"What? I learn things very fast, you should watch what I do, righ'?"

Elvis, Holland, Davis, CJ and O'Day walk out of the room, their voices growing faint down the hallway.

"You need to talk about this?" Josh says, leaning down to pick up the bat in a smooth motion, then holding it up and swinging it a few times. _Constantly showing off,_ Ian thinks grumpily, everything rubbing him the wrong way.

"No," Ian says out loud. The adrenaline rush is fading and Ian is shaking a little with it. He can't believe how worked up he got.

Salty raises an arm to wipe at his forehead with his bicep and the movement reminds Ian that Salty is still there.

"You got pretty mad back there," Josh says. "Broke a TV."

"I know. I'll replace it," Ian snaps.

"I wanna help you, if you want help," Josh says.

"Will you just shut the fuck up?" Ian says furiously. "You can't help me."

"What do you need help with?" Salty says innocently.

Ian ignores him and so does Josh.

"I'm here for you," Josh says. Then he turns and walks out, leaning the bat against the wall again as he goes.

Ian feels like he's on some kind of ledge. There are shards of plastic everywhere from the TV, and Salty is just looking at him, hands resting on his hips, waiting. Ian has two options. He can go after Josh and ask for that useless help that never leads anywhere but back to hating himself. Or...

"He's right, you know," Ian says defiantly, before he can stop himself. "Napoli is, I mean. I'm a total fruit."

His face burns once the words are out, and he can hear them echoing even though the room is small.

Then Salty smiles really fucking wide. "Yeah," he says. "But he don't need to know that."

It takes a moment for Ian to absorb the words. "Well, fuck," he says. "Was I that fucking obvious?"

"Maybe not. But I caught you staring at me all the time and I hoped," Salty says.

Ian smiles involuntarily, a reflex of relief or something infinitely bigger. It's out now, in the open, and Salty knew all along. There's a huge weight that has rolled off his chest and he feels his heart breaking free.

"You think it's safe to assume they aren't coming back?" Salty says, gesturing at the doorway with his thumb.

Ian's heart beats even faster as a thousand possibilities of what Salty is going to do next flash through his mind.

"I--I--have no idea," Ian stutters hoarsely. Things are turning around so fast and he can barely keep up.

Salty licks his lips and thinks for a minute. "You know it wasn't the porn that made me hard, right?" he says finally.

Ian swallows. "I figured it couldn't have been." He looks at the wall behind Salty, trying to get it together. "It wouldn't have gone anything like the way it did if I'd been the one to get hard first. I can't pull that off."

"Pull what off?"

"I don't know," Ian says. "You could probably--probably bend me over on the field in front of everyone and still no one would call you a fag."

He shouldn't have said that, because now he's imagining it, imagining what it would be like if Salty showed the whole world that he owned Ian, that Ian belonged to him. Not that he wants it to happen quite like that, but if he's honest with himself, that's always been the end of the fantasy.

It's silent for a moment, and Ian braves a look up at Salty.

"Is that why you'd never give me the time of day when I was here?" Salty asks quietly.

He's looking down at Ian, no longer smiling, his eyes deep and clear, and Ian can barely understand what he's saying.

"I don't know," Ian says, which is a lie; he had reasons at the time, but now, with Salty looking at him this way, those reasons seem so stupid. "But then you were gone and I thought I'd never know."

"Ian," Salty says, and the sound of his name makes something plunge deep in Ian's middle, like falling on a rollercoaster.

"Salty," Ian moans, breathless and desperate, reaching out toward him.

Salty steps across the shards of the TV on the ground between them and backs Ian up against the wall, leaning in and catching Ian's lower lip with his mouth. He presses in, big and solid, and licks into Ian's mouth, warm and soft and making Ian's jaw go slack.

"You should've asked," Salty says, breaking free for a moment, leaning his forehead against Ian's. "I was here. All I wanted was for you to say you wanted me." He sounds so sad.

Ian is breathing hard, hot and dizzy with Salty so near, delirious with the incredulous feeling of realizing that this is happening, this is real. It's something like pain, but better, so much better.

"I know," he manages finally. "But I was scared. I've been hating myself--"

"Shh," Salty says.

Ian reaches up around Salty's neck and clings to him. "But you came back," he whispers. "You're here now."

Salty kisses him again, his beard rubbing against Ian's face, and it feels so good.

"I thought about what it'd be like to kiss you," Salty says, tracing the line of Ian's jaw with his index finger. "I thought about it back then and just now, standing behind you, watchin' them two guys go to town on the TV and you right in front of me. Wanted to smash that TV myself and throw everyone out so I could do it right."

"Fuck," Ian says. "I was getting so hard and I thought it was all over for me--"

"Ian, baby," Salty says, and Ian feels even hotter, hearing Salty call him that. "You didn't have to worry. I wouldn't have let them see. Didn't want them looking at you." His voice is so smooth and earnest, and if it's even possible Ian loves Salty even more, for knowing, for seeing even when Ian tried so hard not to let him.

"I want you so bad, Salty," Ian says plaintively. "For so long."

Salty runs one of his big, warm hands down the front of Ian's stomach and then cups him right through the soft grey sweatpants Ian is wearing, and Ian's knees nearly buckle.

"You hard for me, baby?"

"Salty," Ian says helplessly.

Salty is gone, suddenly, and Ian feels a moment of panic before he realizes that Salty has gone over to pick up the lube he dropped earlier.

"This came in handy," Salty says, smiling widely at Ian, and Ian wants to laugh crazily, incredulous at how all of this has turned out.

"You gonna fuck me?" Ian says, looking up at Salty happily.

"Jesus, you're beautiful, you know that?" Salty says, stroking a hand over Ian's hair and leaning in to kiss him again.

"Here, turn around, gotta, gotta be inside you," Salty says, and Ian hurriedly complies, feeling Salty yank his pants down.

He feels like his skin must be flushed red all over, but he barely has a moment to be embarrassed before Salty's got his hands on Ian's ass.

"Perfect," Salty says.

Ian hisses when he feels Salty's finger pressing into him, but then Salty leans in close behind him, kissing Ian's neck.

"I'll take care of you," he says simply, and Ian goes limp, relaxing everywhere and feeling Salty take advantage of it, pressing in deeply. It's not deep enough, though, and after a while Ian turns his head.

"Want your cock," Ian says, straining to look over his shoulder.

Salty laughs against Ian's back and kisses his hair, and then he reaches down and Ian feels Salty there, pushing in, slow and relentless.

Ian's eyes fall shut and he leans his cheek against the wall, letting his body pulse and twitch around Salty. It burns a little, but there's nothing like it, the feeling of acceptance, knowing that his body is reshaping itself because of Salty there behind him, opening him up.

"That okay?" Salty says, his voice sounding strained.

Ian can't summon any words, just moves his own hand to grip Salty's where he's bracing himself against the wall.

"Ian," Salty whispers.

Ian tries to gather himself, but he can barely muster coherency, overwhelmed with almost unbearable want. It's never been like this before, where Ian feels like he's completely at the mercy of another person and still not sure whether he's given enough of himself.

"C'mon," he manages at last. "You're--the one." Ian barely knows what he's trying to say himself, but he hopes Salty understands anyway.

When Salty moves in earnest, Ian's eyes water. It hurts but it's the best feeling he's ever known. It's been so long, years of telling himself that he'd never have this again, shameful jerking off in the shower and then hating himself for days afterward because he thought of another man's hand on him rather than his own.

Now Salty is reaching around to take hold of Ian and pull him off but Ian feels like he is detaching from his body, and he realizes that he loves Salty so much, not just because he's doing this with Ian but because it's _him_ , it's Salty, the only person in the world who _knows_ and understands, the only one who isn't trying to change Ian. Instead he's trying to help Ian be true to himself and not be afraid of the consequences.

Ian feels Salty come in him, but he collects himself quickly and finishes Ian off, Ian going boneless with Salty slumped against him, crushing him against the wall.

They breathe together, Ian's left hand still gripping Salty's bigger hand tightly against the wall.

"Here," Salty says, once their heart rates slow a little, "let me see your face."

Ian turns around. He's a mess, his hair damp and plastered to his forehead and his face probably red.

There's something soft about Salty's face now. Sometimes Ian sees worry and restlessness in it, as if Salty knows there is someone somewhere that needs his help and he is anxious to try to find out who. But not now; now Salty's face is calm.

"We can do this, right?" he says. He sounds unsure, and Ian realizes that Salty is trusting Ian with something important.

Ian thinks about what Salty's question means. He has doubts about whether they can, but right now, with Salty looking down at him, he wants to believe anything's possible, that together they can make it so.

"It's a new year, a new season, starting tomorrow," Ian says. There are going to be days when this feels wrong, Ian knows, and days when all the bad will come flooding back. But right now those days feel very far away, and Ian looks into Salty's eyes and thinks he knows now how to keep them at bay.

He smiles and rests his finger over the dimple in Salty's left cheek. "Everything starts from now."

"Yeah," Salty says, and he hugs Ian close. "From now."


End file.
